Family Issues
by YaoiPhox
Summary: Canada is a seemingly shy and quiet lad that is often overlooked. Cuba, a child put in serious situations, gets to witness the Canadian's true nature and opens himself in the process. CuCan, FACE family, Spamano, and a few other, minor pairings and hinted pairings. Rated for Language, (Slight) Violence, and (Slight) Drug Use.


_**AN**__: Alright. I don't know what I want to continue writing so I am going to upload a few different Hetalia prologues here. Test the waters, so to speak. If one gets enough positive feedback, I might feel like writing even more. Hopefully. I'm getting desperate. Had such a bad block since college started. That being said, I hope you guys enjoy this CuCan and beg me for more. (I have over 13,000 words already written for this particular fic.)_

* * *

"So how was your first day of high school, Matthew?" A handsome blond French man poked his head from his kitchen as he heard the door open for a second time.

"It was okay. What's for dinner?" A quiet blond set his polar-bear backpack on the couch next to another patriotic bag.

"Alfred wants burgers and fries." The man sighed, resting his hands on his hips.

"I suppose that's good." Matthew murmured, taking off his tan coat.

"_Oui_. Also, your father is working late tonight so I have to tuck your brother in." He gave an aggravated sigh before retreating back into the kitchen. "I can't believe he still acts like such a child at fifteen."

"Maybe if you and father didn't spoil him." Matthew murmured, heading to his bedroom.

"Yo! Dude, come play this awesome game with me." A teenager looking almost exactly like Matthew sat with his eyes glued to the television, game controller in hand.

"Okay." He sighed, plopping down on a bean bag chair beside him. "What's it aboot?"

"Haha! Dude, you did it again." The other teenager began to laugh obnoxiously while the Canadian simmered in silence, face a bright red.

"S-Shut up, Alfred!" He whined, lightly pounding on his brother whom continued to laugh at the action.

"So bro." When the obviously American blond simmered down, he paused his game. "Did you make any friends today?"

"Not today." He replied, all anger diminished.

"Maybe next week then." Alfred beamed, handing him the controller.

"I doubt it..."

* * *

"Francis, you froggy git!" The shout of a British man rudely awoke the sleeping brothers. "You forgot to set the friggin' alarm!"

"I did not!" Another voice snapped and numerous sounds showed the two were hurrying about. "You just slept through it, Arthur."

"Whatever, just go wake the kids." The other man shouted.

"Second day and we're late." Alfred snickered and Matthew rolled his eyes, already dressed with his backpack on.

"I tried to wake you guys but you wouldn't budge." He whined quietly.

"You say somethin' Matt?"

"Ugh."

* * *

At school, Matthew and Alfred parted ways to head for their first class of the day. The small Canadian sighed, reading the numbers on the wall and his schedule. He failed to pay attention though and bumped into someone. The next thing he knew, he was slammed into the lockers.

"Damnit Alfred! You did that on purpose!" A heavily accented voice sounded a second before Matthew collapsed on the ground, clutching his stomach.

"I'm not Alfred!" He cried.

"Yeah right! You have his hair, eyes, glasses and his cloth-" Abruptly the other boy stopped, "Oh no_, lo siento_!"

"It's fine." Matthew sniffled, still in pain. "I get mistaken for that idiot a lot..."

"I'll take you to the nurse. What's your name?" The darkskinned man offered his hand but Matthew smacked it away halfheartedly.

"I'll be fine, ey." He sighed. "My name's Matthew. You?"

"Carlos. I haven't seen you around before." He noted. "You a freshman?"

"Yeah... Um, could you pull me up?" Matthew was beyond embarrassed now.

"Si." He smiled, grabbing his arm to yank him to his feet. "Where's your first class?"

"It was health..." He sighed, "With Ms. Chernenko."

"Ah. Lucky. She's nice. Unlike her brother or sister. Follow me." Carlos smiled, heading down the hall.

"Thank you..." Matthew limped.

"Oh, by the way, I'll have to make up for that back there. You got any friends yet?" The Cuban stopped outside the classroom.

"Not yet..."

"Then allow me to be your first."

* * *

"Yo, bro, looks like we have lunch together today. How sweet is this?" Matthew cringed at the sound of his brother.

"Alfred." He sighed. "I have quite a few things to say to you. None of which are very pleasant."

"That can wait. Let me introduce you to some of my friends." Alfred waved his brother's words off again, dragging him to his table. "This is Feliciano, Kiku, Heracles, Toris, and Feliks." He pointed to each student listed, "Homies, this is my little bro, Matthew." Greetings were given and Mathew just nodded in acknowledgment.

"Nice to meet you." He said quietly, taking his seat by Alfred.

As usual, he was invisible in the presence of his older brother...

* * *

"How was school, Alfred?" Arthur asked as soon as his sons entered the living room, sipping his tea and reading a newspaper.

"It was good, old man." He replied, tossing his bag on the couch with Matthew's.

"I made a new friend." The younger said.

"Hm? What was that, Matthew?" Arthur blinked.

"Nothing. Forget it." He sighed, heading for the kitchen.

Francis was sitting at the kitchen table, head in his hands. Matthew spared him a glance before heading for the freezer for frozen waffles. They were out of pancakes but he had not received his day's maple syrup intake. As he waited for the waffles, curiousity about his dad's sulking grew.

"What's wrong?" He stood right by the French man.

"Hm? Matthew? Oh, it's nothing, _mon cher_." He sighed, "Just another fight. Nothing to worry about." He gave a laugh. "We'll be having make up sex before you know it."

"Ew." Matthew groaned, "Forget I asked, papa."

"How was school?" Francis brought his wine glass to his lips.

"I made a new friend." He murmured.

"Oh? _Magnifique_! What's his name?"

"Carlos." He answered, putting his waffle on his plate.

"Oh? Sounds familiar." Francis started to stroke his stubble.

"He's Cuban." Matthew shrugged, drowning his waffles in syrup. "And apparently, hates Alfred."

"Hm. That's not surprising." Francis chuckled before sipping his wine. "Go easy on the syrup, _mon cher_..."

* * *

"Matthew! There you are! I've been looking all over for ya."

"Carlos?" Matthew squeeked in surprise, nearly dropping his tray.

"Yep. I'm glad we at least have lunch together otherwise I never would have found you." The Cuban grinned, a lunchbox in hand.

"Yeah." Matthew smiled. "Is it just you or do you have friends?"

"Oh, I have a few. Follow me and I'll introduce you. If you want." He started for a table by one of the cafeteria exits.

"Hey, is that Feliciano?" Matthew spotted a familiar face at the table.

"Yep. That's my uncle." He gave a slight laugh, "If his brother's lover really was my father.

"Ve, don't let them hear you say that, Carlos." The Italian was snuggling on a blond man's arm.

"Matthew, this is Feliciano and Ludwig. That's Sadik, Abel, his sister Anri, Leon, and the quiet guy is Emil." He waved his hand around the table. "_Amigos_, this is Matthew."

"Ve, you look familiar." Feliciano blinked, tilting his head. "We should have pasta some time!"

"Uh, sure." Matthew sighed, unsurprised that he did not remember.

"So Matthew, what do you like to eat?" Carlos pulled him down to sit by him.

"Oh, I like pancakes and maple syrup... Lots of maple syrup." He blushed.

"Really? I love ice cream. Lots of ice cream." The larger teen grinned. "Do you have a favorite sport?"

"Hockey." He answered quickly.

"My cousins, brothers, and I enjoy that game too sometimes." Emil spoke up, eating his fishy food.

"I prefer football. Or as Americans say, soccer." Feliciano sighed happily.

"_Ja_. It's fun. I prefer target practice..." The German said around his wurst.

"What about you, Carlos?" Matthew turned his wide blue eyes to his new, and first, friend.

"I love all sports." He shrugged. "Especially beating the shit out of that smug American asshole."

"Wah, Carlos, calm down." Feliciano whined. "It's not healthy to be angry."

"I know." He sighed.

"Why do you hate Alfred so much?" The Canadian curiously asked.

"He's been a pain in my side since I moved here. He keeps calling me a Commie and a few other choice words." He scowled. "That's just a few things."

"I understand." Matthew sighed, "He's difficult to get along with sometimes."

"I don't think he's that bad." The Italian's words were muffled by Ludwig's jacket which he hid his face in.

"Feliciano, you don't think badly of anyone."

Laughter flooded the table, making the shy Canadian join in. He felt happy and relaxed for the first time since he was forced to leave Canada...

* * *

A month after school started was plenty of time for Matthew know many things about Carlos, whom seemed absent for a quarter of that month. When he asked the others about it, he was ignored. Without the short tempered and cheerful Cuban there it was like Matthew's first day all over. It was a day when his lunch was spent with Alfred when Matthew snapped.

He got up from his seat, grabbing the back of Feliciano's shirt in order to drag him off. The Italian panicked for a moment but calmed when Matthew released him. He smiled his usual dopey smile, asking what he wanted.

"Where's Carlos?" He demanded.

"Carlos? He skips school every now and then. Usually after getting beat by Alfred." The Italian answered. "This time he just got in a little fight with Antonio."

"Antonio?" Matthew blinked.

"_Si_, his guardian." Feliciano nodded as the bell rang, ending lunch. "_Ciao_."

"_Adieu_..."

* * *

"Matthew! Set the table, _cher_." Francis called from his bedroom. "Our guests will be here in about half an hour."

"Okay." Matthew called back, going to the kitchen.

Another month had passed and Francis had finally managed to convince Arthur to let his closest friends visit. Matthew and Alfred never got the opportunity to meet them because Arthur said they were a bad influence. However his husband had his ways of changing his mind. The British man was outside in the yard helping Alfred set things up for the weekend get-together at their small house.

By the time Matthew had the inside ready, the door bell rang, signalling the arrival of their guests. Francis sent him to fetch his brother and father and then went to answer the door. Arthur and Alfred were having a little spar in the yard when Matthew came for them. The two often fought over trivial things yet the rebellious teenager still always got more attention from their parents than obedient little Matthew.

"Alfred, dad! The guests are here." He shouted.

"Awesome." Alfred snorted, getting off of Arthur.

"You cheating sod." The British man huffed to Alfred before heading inside with his sons trailing close behind.

"_Hola_ _pequeños_. Nice to finally be meeting you." A Spanish man greeted them, Francis close behind.

"Matthew, Arthur, this is Antonio Fernandez Carriedo." He introduced them then turned to three familiar faces behind him. "This is his lover, Lovino Vargas and his younger brother Feliciano Vargas. And these," he motioned to some very familiar teenagers, "are Antonio's adopted children, Carlos, Abel, and Anri."

"Gah!" Alfred exclaimed, "It's the damn Commie!"

"Ugh, this day is just getting better." Carlos glared.

"H-Hello, Carlos." Matthew hesitantly spoke up.

"Eh? Oh great, and you forced poor Matthew to hang out with you." He grumbled.

"What the hell are you saying? Matthew's my little bro!" Alfred scoffed.

"_Tu_ _que_?" Carlos blanched.

"Oh how nice. Our boys are already friends." Antonio gave a blissful sigh.

"Yeah sure..." Abel scoffed, "Whatever helps you sleep at night. I'm going outside."

"Carlos, please don't be mad." Matthew cried quietly, watching his brother and friend stare each other down.

"Alfred, stop being so rude." Arthur finally sighed, stepping between the two. "They are our guests today."

"Ve~ Alfred, let's go play football, si?" The smaller Italian spoke up, swinging on his brother's arm, much to the elder's aggravation.

"Sure thing Feli." Alfred grinned, completely forgetting the Cuban to escort his happy friend to the yard with Lovino and Anri following.

"How could you not tell me you were _el_ _hermano_ _de_ _este_ _bastardo_?" Carlos grumbled to the nervous Canadian.

"S-Sorry, I thought it was obvious..." He stuttered.

"Of course it isn't. I mean, sure you look the same, but you're Canadian, right?" Carlos frowned.

"Of course. The maple runs deep in my veins." He gave a proud pose, only to be accidentally knocked over by Anri who was headed outside to join the boys.

"Careful." The Cuban reached out to hold him up. "So how are the two of you related? By blood or adoption?"

"Both." Before he could further explain, there was an obnoxious knocking from outside.

"Open up for the awesomeness that is me, Francis!" A strange voice demanded.

"Coming, Gilbert." Francis and Antonio shared a grin and headed for the door.

"Should we go join the others, ey?" Matthew asked nervously; he did not like the sound of his father's other friend.

"Isn't there somewhere else we can go?" The other frowned. "I don't feel like beating your brother up in front of everyone."

"I guess there's our room. Follow me." He smiled faintly, heading down the hall to his room. "Ignore the mess... Alfred gets mad when I try to clean it."

"Ass." He mumbled, looking around the flashy room. "So you like super heroes too?"

"No. He put all that stuff up. My wall is here." He went to open the closet. "It's all I need." He blushed, looking at his beloved Canadian flag and hockey jersey pinned next to a few pictures of polar bears and Canadian landscapes.

"Way better than the super hero stuff." Carlos gave a friendly smile then looked at the two beds. "This one his?" He pointed to the messy bed and Matthew nodded. "Total slob. If Abel or Ludwig saw this they'd have a heart attack."

"Yeah, Francis and Arthur don't like it either but they don't do much aboot it. Damnit!" He blushed, covering his mouth. "Sorry abo-out that." He grumbled.

"About what?" Carlos blinked. "Cursing? Don't worry. I'm not a saint." He laughed, sitting on the neatly made bed.

"No, my accent sometimes comes out..." He replied, joining him on the bed.

"Oh? So what?" He frowned.

"So I get made fun of. Alfred says that Americans like picking on Canadians." He frowned.

"Americans like picking on everyone. Even themselves occasionally." He waved it off. "So, seriously... Tell me about yourself. Friends should know each other better after all."

"Well, I was born in Canada a year after Alfred and then our mother forgot me in the hotel room... She never came back for me because she died two weeks later in America." He explained. "This left me and Alfred orphaned."

"How can a woman forget her own baby?" Carlos gaped in disbelief.

"Oh, I'm used to being ignored and forgotten." Matthew gave a pathetic smile, "I don't mind it..."

"It's not right. You're too _bueno_ to be ignored." Carlos said. "I promise I'll never ignore you, Matthew..."

"Ah-T-Thank you." He reached around Carlos to craddle his pillow. "You still wanna know more?"

"Yeah. About how you and Alfred got stuck together again." He nodded.

"Well, we were both in the orphanage... Francis was working in Canada near my orphanage and he saw me... I was like ten... He adopted me as soon as he could but he didn't tell his fiance..." He smiled, snuggling the pillow. "Arthur thought I was Francis' bastard child and it took a long time to convince him I wasn't... We actually got a blood test." He paused. "I dunno how it happened, but apparently our blood tests got compared to Afred's and within a week he was on our doorstep. His foster parents had been searching for his relatives, or so he said... Arthur agreed to adopt Alfred cause he had like an instant attraction to him... As most people do." He looked up sadly at Carlos. "How did you end up with your family?"

"Eh, you don't want to know." Carlos looked away. "At least not now."

"Oh. Okay then. Should we go outside, ey? It sounds like they're having fun."

"Sure."

Outside everyone appeared to be having something far from fun. Alfred, Arthur, Ludwig, Abel, and Lovino stood in front of roughly constructed soccer goal across from a goal protected by Antonio, Gilbert, and Francis. Anri was sitting on the sidelines with Feliciano, torn between sides. Carlos grinned and rushed to join the three friends, adjusting the dreadlocks he had pulled back. Matthew hesitantly followed, angered by the uneven odds.

"Papa, Alfred, how could you think about playing so unfairly?" He huffed, just before a black and white blur smacked him right in the face.

"Whoops! Sorry bro! Didn't see you there!" Alfred laughed, earning a glare from Francis and Arthur.

"Alfred, you bastardo!" Carlos snapped, placing his foot on the ball. "You hurt your brother on purpose." He sent the ball flying into their goal.

"Did not!" Alfred scowled, "And that doesn't count, Commie!"

"Game starts when the idiot first kicks the ball, idiota!" The Cuban sneered.

And just like that, the battle began. Lovino ducked, letting out a scream of terror as Gilbert kicked the ball towards the goal he was supposed to be guarding. Ludwig cursed and began to scold the older Italian. They quickly switched positions. The ball was now on their side with Gilbert acting as the 'Bad Touch Team' goalie. The two ball hogs were usually Alfred and therefore Carlos. However when Antonio stole the ball, Lovino was quick to curse him out in Italian while 'accidentally' kicking the Spaniard's shins until Arthur steals the ball. Then Francis gets to being serious and the others abandon the game until it's just them, the German brothers, and Alfred verbally harrassing Carlos.

"I wonder if this is common..." Matthew frowned at the violent soccer game, standing by Abel.

"It's common for Al and Carl to deck it out... Not so sure about your guardians... Ludwig and his brother are just overly competitive." The Dutch teen shrugged and headed to a more secluded part of the yard, hidden from view.

"Hey, can you tell me something?" Matthew followed.

"Depends..." He replied, pulling out a rather fancy, old fashioned tabacco pipe. "What is it?"

"Um..." For a moment, Matthew was surprised but he shook it off, "Tell me about Carlos..."

"Eh? Sure. What first?" The scarred teenager inquired, lighting his pipe with a match.

"How you guys met?" He tilted his head.

"Oh. Well, that Antonio bastard adopted him a few weeks after taking Lovino in." He blew some smoke. "My sister and I were already in his care and thought he was crazy for adopting a fourth child."

"Why?"

"Antonio's poor as dirt. It's even worse since he got divorced from that Austrian." He replied. "But you wanted to know about Carlos?" He smiled and ruffled Matthew's hair. "He was like me... A bit of a trouble maker in the making. Apparently his parents back in Cuba were killed when they reached Florida and he was thrown into the orphanage system. He's a cheerful guy though..." He shrugged, "I'll blame Antonio for that."

"Abel! Where the hell are you? We're heading inside!" Lovino shouted.

"Shit." Abel quickly snuffed his pipe, shoving it in his pocket. "Comin'! See ya around, kid."

* * *

"If you kids act anything like either Gilbert, Antonio, or your father, I will restrict your video game and maple syrup privileges." Arthur grit through a false smile, waving to the departing guests.

"No problem." Alfred boasted.

"Okay..." Matthew sighed.

"_Adieu, mon amis_!" Francis shouted over his shoulder, heading back inside. "We should do this again sometime, _oui_?"

"Hell no." Arthur huffed, heading to the yard to tidy up. "And you were all over that bloody Spaniard."

"Ah, I'm sorry for making you jealous, _amour_." Francis smiled, picking up the living room.

"Whatever, frog."

"Hey Mattie, let's watch that movie Ludwig left here." Alfred gave his younger brother a devilish smirk.

"I don't think-ah!"

Alfred had already made up his mind, dragging him into the bedroom. Matthew stumbled onto his bed and his brother went to lock the door. Ignoring the Canadian's protests, Alfred turned on his console, inserting the dirty movie Feliciano had been showing off, much to Ludwig's horror. It had been quite awkward for all the teenagers except for maybe Alfred, Anri, and Abel. Matthew had been able to hide behind Carlos until Gilbert burst in with Antonio.

They had been shocked for a second and tempted to watch the next. They would have joined too had it not been for Lovino's call from the kitchen. Antonio halfheartedly scolded his children before urging them out. It was obvious he was, as Alfred and Gilbert put it, 'whipped'. Whatever that meant...

"Al... I really don't want to wa-"

"Nonsense. What are you? Gay?" Alfred snorted, started the movie.

"Just because you watch straight porn doesn't make you straight." He huffed quietly.

"What makes you say that?" The American scoffed.

"Ludwig's gay, stupid."

"Yeah right!" He laughed, "How would you know anyways? You just met him today."

"No, I met him on the third day of school. He's always hanging out with Carlos." Matthew ignored the moans of pain coming from the television.

"Don't mention that Commie." Alfred scowled. "You're too chummy with him. Take my advice and stay away from him. He's no good."

"How would you know, eh?" Matthew began to get defensive, "You only ever pick fights with him. You never tried to get to know him like I have. He's sweet."

"Gross, and I thought pops' sense of taste was bad!" Alfred scowled.

"Shut up, eh!" Matthew steamed and began to utter some angry French.

"Dude! Chill." Alfred turned off the television. "You're gonna bring Francis in here!"

"I hate you. You so stupid and mean and you're going to get fat and-"

"What's going on, _mon cher_? What did your brother do?" Francis had quickly opened the door.

"I didn't do nothin' and he started cursing me out." Alfred whined.

"I find that rather hard to believe." Arthur scoffed, standing beside his husband. "He rarely ever gets upset unless you really provoke him."

"I was just talking about that Cuban and he started getting all huffy."

"Shut up!" Matthew seemed to deflate now that their parents were involved.

"Ohohoho~ Could it be that our little Matthew has a crush?" Francis gave a mischvieous grin.

"No!" Matthew was appalled at how quickly the conversation turned against him. "I just hate how Alfred's always so judgmental!"

"Well that's an American for you..." Arthur murmured.

"What's that supposed to mean, pops!?"

And just like that, the quiet Canadian became a mere ghost in the room. For once, he was glad for that...

* * *

_**AN**__: Carlos = Cuba. Abel = Netherlands. Anri = Belgium. I actually started writing this sometime last year or so... Before my break up and at a time in my relationship when I wasn't obsessing over her too much to write. It started on my phone too so ignore any typos. I've read this quite a few times over by now though... Shall I continue posting this story or scrap it?_


End file.
